


The Convention - Early Morning, Still in Bed (Day 13: In a different clothing style)

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Series: The Convention [13]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Conventions, Ficlet, M/M, self-gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30-Day OTP Challenge</p><p>A succession of Cockles fics & ficlets, set at a fictional convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Convention - Early Morning, Still in Bed (Day 13: In a different clothing style)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not personally know any of the people I'm writing about. As far as I'm concerned, these are fictional characters in some alternate universe, which exists someplace between our own and the French Drop universe, who happen to bear superficial resemblance to our boys (and girls). Their conversations, personalities, and innermost thoughts are generally extrapolated from plausible reality, occasionally made up from whole cloth.

Jensen almost chokes when he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is Misha’s ass wrapped in some very form-fitting running shorts. He licks his lips and tries to keep silent, so Misha won’t know he’s awake, so he can just enjoy the show that is Misha warming up for a jog. 

He balances with one foot up on a chair, his other leg a long line of muscle and sinew. Jensen’s eyes run down from the rounded ass, across the dimples in the back of Misha’s knee, and linger on the definition of the musculature beneath the skin of his calf. He watches, captivated, as Misha shifts forward and his muscles ripple and rearrange, tightening and expanding as Misha works through stretching each different group. 

Jensen’s breath speeds up as Misha puts both feet on the floor, spreads his legs, and bends down at the waist, nearly folding himself in half. God damn--Jensen knew the guy was flexible, but this is practically obscene. He pictures Misha stretching naked. He could get in so deep...

He must have made some inadvertent noise, because Misha looks up at him. He can’t help but blush at being caught watching, fantasizing. Misha, being Misha, clearly gets off on it. He sways his hips a bit, and bounces, jiggling his taut ass. Jensen stares, transfixed. He can feel himself getting hard. 

Misha licks his lips and runs his hands over his calves, moans slightly. 

That is _so_ not playing fair. Jensen blushes harder as he takes the challenge. He rubs his hand slowly down his chest, pushing the sheet down. He sees Misha’s cheek twitch and gets a little more confident. Using one hand to circle lightly around his nipples in a figure eight, he dips the other lower, slides the sheet down just to the tip of his cock, then pushes underneath it. Misha makes a noise of frustration, and Jensen smiles. One tease calls for another. 

He begins stroking himself slowly, staying just below the sheet but making sure Misha can see the action. Leaning his head back, he starts to let out noises, small pants and groans, playing up his reactions to each sensation he’s causing himself. When he tilts his head back up to look at Misha, he tongues his bottom lip, and Misha stops even pretending to stretch. 

Jensen motions a silent invitation, but Misha shakes his head, looking half-dazed. He sits down on the foot of the bed, but moves no closer. “Keep going,” he whispers. 

One look at Misha--darkened eyes, spit-slick lips, half open mouth--and what Jensen started half as a joke is suddenly a massive turn-on. He pulls faster, arching his back and letting just the tip of his cock peek out from beneath the sheet. He can hear Misha’s breathing, heavy and rapid, in time with his own. He’s hitting his speed now, the way he does this for himself, not mindful anymore of giving a show. He drags his free hand down his body, rubbing over his stomach and across his thighs before resting underneath his balls, brushing the underside, a counterpoint rhythm. He feels the pressure growing, growing, and with a light squeeze, he comes, shouting out and spurting all up his chest. 

Without a word, in one ninja-like motion, Misha is there, straddling him and kissing him into the pillow. 

“God do you have any idea how hard it is to hide a boner in these shorts?” he mumbles into Jensen’s mouth. “How am I supposed to go for a run now?”

Jensen slips a finger under Misha’s waistband. “I can think of some better ways of getting your heart rate up.”

Within seconds, the shorts are on the floor.


End file.
